


All's Faire

by slightlytookish



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Awkwardness, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Renaissance Faires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2181078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/pseuds/slightlytookish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac throws an arm around Enjolras and leads him away from the others. "Did you have your coffee this morning? I need to know if I'm dealing with caffeine withdrawal in addition to your Grantaire-related sulking."</p>
<p>"Why would I sulk about him?" Enjolras says automatically, because the idea that he'd sulk over anything having to do with Grantaire is ludicrous and Courfeyrac really should know better. It doesn't stop Enjolras from glancing around to see if Grantaire is in earshot, though – but of course he isn't, since he and Eponine slipped away from the group as soon as they bought their tickets. Not that it matters to Enjolras what Grantaire does with his time, though he can't seem to keep his eyes from lingering on every dark curly head that they happen to alight on as he peers through the crowd.</p>
<p>(In which Les Amis go the Renaissance faire and Enjolras has to deal with his feelings).</p>
            </blockquote>





	All's Faire

Enjolras starts yelling at the radio before they even reach the bridge. He doesn't mean to do it – in fact, he isn't even aware that he is until he catches himself asking Combeferre to take notes for the next meeting (he'd do it himself but he's busy driving). 

"Our primary goals will be awareness and fundraising; we'll post fliers, have a bake sale. Will you remind me later to ask Courfeyrac if he has any other ideas? Let's also find a couple of guest speakers, we could host an info session at the start of the semester. We-" He trails off abruptly as the politician on the radio makes a particularly offensive comment, turning Enjolras' attention away from his plans and back to the rant that led him there. "Did you hear what he just said? The man is a bigoted fool. This is a clear human rights violation-"

Just then a hand reaches out and blindly jabs at the radio's buttons, changing the channel. 

"Grantaire!" he says, appalled. Enjolras knows that it's him, even though he doesn't dare to take his eyes off the road as they merge onto the ramp. Traffic has slowed almost to a crawl on the approach to the bridge, and the last thing he needs is to look away for a moment and crash into the car ahead of them. Besides, it has to be Grantaire – Eponine has been sound asleep almost from the moment they set out that morning and even Enjolras' raised voice hasn't awakened her, and Enjolras can see Combeferre out of the corner of his eye, busily tapping away on his phone. He's either dutifully taking notes as requested or he is sending Courfeyrac increasingly desperate texts about the state of Enjolras' mood; one can never know for sure. 

(Enjolras absolutely refuses to think about the third possibility because he's still traumatized from the time he caught Courfeyrac sexting Combeferre during a meeting, which only became more horrifying when he realized that Combeferre was sexting him _back_ ). 

"What?" Grantaire says, wedging himself between the front seats to better flip between the channels. 

Enjolras can feel the warmth of him all along his arm and tells himself that it's a distraction because he is trying to drive, and not because it is Grantaire. Either way, his voice sounds unmistakably tense when he says, "I was listening to that, in case you didn't notice."

"And in case you didn't notice, you need to cut back on your NPR intake before you end up driving us off the bridge because you were too busy arguing with the radio." 

"We're not even on the bridge yet," Enjolras says, as if that's a reasonable argument, and the fact that Grantaire merely responds with an amused huff of a laugh right by his ear only makes him feel even more annoyed.

"Ooh, '80s weekend," Grantaire says, finally settling on a station. Combeferre, the traitor, immediately puts his phone away and starts singing along to "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Grantaire joins him, rocking his head in time with the music, and when Enjolras feels Grantaire's curls brushing against his cheek on every other beat he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.

"Sit back and put on your seatbelt," he snaps, glaring at Grantaire in the rearview mirror until he hears the satisfying click of the belt. Enjolras then turns his attention back to the traffic, where it belongs, and sternly tells himself that the sudden absence of warmth on his arm now that Grantaire has retreated to the backseat is a stupid thing to mourn on a humid summer day.

He doesn't change the channel though, and when he starts humming along to the music a few songs later, neither Grantaire nor Combeferre say a word.

*

"Just out of curiosity," Grantaire says, once again unbuckling his seatbelt and squeezing between the two front seats when they're just a few miles away from the faire. "When's the last time anyone saw Marius' car?"

It's enough of a concern that Enjolras doesn't even tell Grantaire to sit back. "Not in a while," he admits, glancing at the mirror with a frown. The road behind them is empty and he can't remember when he last saw Marius' ancient Honda Civic now that he thinks about it. He's pretty sure that Marius doesn't have a GPS either, so putting him in a car with Courfeyrac, Jehan, Joly, and Bossuet probably wasn't the best decision that any of them have made recently.

Combeferre seems to be thinking along the same lines. "I'll text Courfeyrac," he says, but before he can his phone chimes with a message. 

" _Marius got us lost_ ," he reads aloud. Nine more messages come through in quick succession, and Combeferre and Grantaire start laughing so hard at them that Enjolras has to pull over to the side of the road in order to read them himself.

Courfeyrac: _I think we're somewhere in new jersey :(_

Courfeyrac: _no we're in ny now wait no jersey again HOW IS MARIUS DOING THIS_

Courfeyrac: _I think he's going to cry_

Courfeyrac: _bossuet keeps saying that we're going to die in the woods_

Courfeyrac: _we've passed the same tree five times i think_

Courfeyrac: _now bossuet has me convinced send help_

Courfeyrac: _WHY IS THIS ROAD ONLY ONE LANE IN EACH DIRECTION_

Courfeyrac: _I AM TERRIFIED_

Courfeyrac: _IF I START SEEING COWS I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS_

"We need to rethink the seating arrangements for the trip home," Enjolras says as Combeferre wipes his eyes and attempts to compose himself.

"I'd better call and try to give them directions," he says, still fighting back a grin. Courfeyrac answers on the first ring and Combeferre puts him on speakerphone so that the others can listen. "Where are you?"

"We just passed that same stupid tree – for the sixth time, if you can believe it – and by the way, Marius is never allowed to drive again."

Courfeyrac must have put them on speakerphone too, because Enjolras hears a whimper that sounds suspiciously like Marius in the background, followed by Joly's unmistakable laugh.

"Hang on," Courfeyrac says. "There's a car signaling at us to pull over." 

"Isn't there a horror movie that starts like this?" Bossuet says, though he doesn't sound overly concerned at the prospect. Marius whimpers again.

Enjolras hears Jehan murmuring something in the background, most likely trying to reassure Marius, before a woman's voice cuts through, sounding small and far away even though she's probably yelling from the other car. "Are you guys lost? We're just wondering because you drove past us three times in the last ten minutes."

From what Enjolras can gather from the muffled conversation that follows, his friends aren't hopelessly lost. In fact, they aren't far away at all and the mystery women (at least, Enjolras thinks he hears two distinct voices) are also heading in the same direction and offer to lead the way. When Courfeyrac finally takes up the conversation again he sounds absolutely delighted, and not just because he probably won't have to pass by that tree for a seventh time.

"Guys," he says in an over-dramatic whisper. "I think Marius is in love! With a girl! Can you believe it?" There's a burst of laughter from the other car, and Enjolras hears the others already beginning to tease Marius about it just before Courfeyrac ends the call. 

"Shit," Grantaire mutters, slumping back in his seat. 

For once, Enjolras is inclined to agree with him. "You know we'll hear about this all day," he says, unable to hold back an irritated sigh. It's just the sort of thing that Marius will obsess over, and that the others will never let him live down, so he's sure that the subject won't be dropped any time soon.

"No, I meant-" Grantaire trails off and Enjolras' eyes flick to him in the mirror in time to see him gesturing helplessly at Eponine. Somehow she's managed to sleep through all the noise, but that doesn't stop Grantaire from looking anxious.

"What about her?" Enjolras says, and it's only when Combeferre gives him a pointed look that it finally clicks in his mind. "Wait. No. Marius? _Really_?"

Combeferre nods, and Enjolras hardly has any time to wonder how he's managed to miss something like that before Grantaire laughs and says, "You really need to work on your observation skills."

"I have more important things on my mind than other people's love lives," Enjolras retorts, and he ignores the way that Grantaire's laughter abruptly falls silent as he puts the car in drive and turns back onto the road. 

*

When they all meet up again in the parking lot, Courfeyrac makes a beeline for Combeferre and leaps into his arms. "I'm never getting into that car with Marius again," he says, clinging tightly to his neck. "Quick, let's hide it while he's not paying attention."

"We can't steal his _car_ ," Combeferre says, sounding exasperated. He doesn't seem inclined to let Courfeyrac go, however, and when Enjolras merely raises an eyebrow at him Combeferre blushes and shrugs a shoulder, and keeps holding on.

Courfeyrac is right, though – Marius is oblivious to everyone around him as he squints across the parking lot, looking increasingly desperate. "I can't believe I lost her. I didn't even thank her, or get her name! I'm such an idiot." 

"Who are we talking about?" Eponine says, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"One of the girls in the other car," Bossuet says before turning to Marius, who's actually wringing his hands. "Don't worry, they were only just ahead of us so she couldn't have gone far. We'll help you look for her."

"Of course we will, but not until everyone puts on sunscreen," Joly says, passing around a tote bag filled with every SPF imaginable. "I have insect repellent too, if anyone's interested." 

Once their sunscreen has been suitably applied according to Joly's exacting standards, they have a ten minute walk through the woods to the main entrance. Much to Enjolras' growing annoyance, Marius predictably spends the entire time talking nonstop about the girl he just met. 

"If you'd seen her, Enjolras, you'd understand," he says, sounding very earnest. Enjolras is doubtful of that, but before he can say so he catches a glimpse of Combeferre over Marius' shoulder, giving him one of his _please be nice_ looks. Since it's usually a good idea to listen to Combeferre, Enjolras bites back his words and tries to think of a more suitable response. He's well aware that it's taking him longer than it probably should when someone behind him snorts derisively.

Enjolras doesn't even know why he turns around; of course it's Grantaire. "You're wasting your time, Marius," he says with a wry grin. "Enjolras will never understand. He's immune to that sort of thing."

Marius shoots Grantaire a confused look but it's nothing that Enjolras hasn't heard people say about him before. He knows that sometimes he comes across as aloof and unfeeling – more than sometimes, if he's being honest with himself. But it stings more than it usually does to hear Grantaire say it, and Enjolras isn't sure if he wants to explore the reason for _that_. He settles instead for taking the bait, as always. "That sort of what?" he asks coldly.

Grantaire shrugs, still grinning. "Oh, just the little things that keep us mere mortals interested. Don't feel bad. It's a common enough affliction for marble statues like yourself, or so I've heard."

Enjolras can't help flinching at that, though he tries to cover up how much it truly bothers him by quickly making his expression as blank as possible. "You sound like quite the expert." 

Grantaire's smile slips for a moment, and when it returns it's thin and entirely impossible for Enjolras to read. "I guess that's one thing to call it."

He refuses to meet Enjolras' eyes after that, and when the silence drags on for too long Combeferre turns to Marius and asks, "What does she look like?"

Enjolras is grateful for the change in subject and mostly manages to tune out the conversation that follows, which mainly consists of Marius waxing poetic on the exact way that the girl's hair shines in the sunlight. He notices that Eponine doesn't stay to listen, though, choosing instead to step off the path and onto the grass in order to pass them by and walk on ahead. Grantaire follows close behind, brushing past Enjolras without a glance in his direction, and somehow that hurts just as much as his words did. 

*

It becomes clear to Enjolras as soon as he walks through the front gate that the faire is set only very loosely during the Renaissance.

"But why is that person dressed as Jack Sparrow, Combeferre? Jack Sparrow is not a Renaissance figure!"

Combeferre doesn't look up from the program he got at the ticket booth, not even when Courfeyrac carefully steers him around one of the countless enormous puddles dotting the main road. "Maybe he's meant to serve as a symbol of the spirit of global exploration during that point in history? Or maybe," he says, turning a page, "it's because they're having a pirate costume contest this afternoon."

"And what do you think they're supposed to be?" Enjolras nods in the direction of a group of women wearing devil horns in various shapes and colors.

Combeferre glances up at them for a moment, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as if that would help him see better, before finally giving a mystified shrug. "Satyrs?"

"That still doesn't explain the Vikings," Enjolras mutters as he watches a whole troupe of them going by, bulky wooden shields clattering against their backs. "If they're going to be a walking anachronism, they may as well get it right. There's no archaeological proof that Vikings wore helmets with horns. It's a misconception dating back to the 19th century-"

"Enjolras!" Courfeyrac interrupts with a laugh. "Classes don't start for two more weeks, we don't need a history lesson now." He throws an arm around Enjolras and leads him away from the others, tugging him past a row of Tudor-style buildings where vendors are selling jewelry and handmade puppets before he speaks again. "Did you have your coffee this morning? I need to know if I'm dealing with caffeine withdrawal in addition to your Grantaire-related sulking."

"Why would I sulk about him?" Enjolras says automatically, because the idea that he'd sulk over anything having to do with Grantaire is ludicrous and Courfeyrac really should know better. It doesn't stop Enjolras from glancing around to see if Grantaire is in earshot, though – but of course he isn't, since he and Eponine slipped away from the group as soon as they bought their tickets. Not that it matters to Enjolras what Grantaire does with his time, though he can't seem to keep his eyes from lingering on every dark curly head that they happen to alight on as he peers through the crowd.

It doesn't go unnoticed, of course, though Courfeyrac must be really concerned about him because he doesn't call him on it. "Because what Grantaire said back there was pretty shitty and obviously hurt your feelings," is all that he says, so matter-of-factly that Enjolras can't deny it.

"I say shitty things to him all the time," he says with a sigh. Courfeyrac doesn't contradict him, because they both know it's true. "It shouldn't upset me."

"But it does."

"But it does," Enjolras agrees grudgingly. 

"Why do you think that is?"

Enjolras turns to glare at him, but Courfeyrac is giving him a look of wide-eyed innocence. Luckily he's saved from having to respond when Combeferre joins them, phone in hand.

"Okay, so Bahorel and Feuilly are still stuck in traffic but should be here in about forty minutes," he says. "I told them to text us when they arrive and we'll let them know where we are. Marius, Joly, and Bossuet went off to look for the mystery women from the other car, and I left Jehan looking at flower crowns."

Courfeyrac's eyes light up. "Flower crowns? Where?" he exclaims, and the next thing Enjolras knows he's being dragged across the road by Courfeyrac, dodging small children and several enormous muddy potholes in the process, to where Jehan is waving at them in front of a vendor's cart with a crown of orange and yellow flowers already perched on his head. It clashes horribly with his shirt, which strongly resembles a tablecloth with its pale green stripes and large maroon flowers, but that doesn't it make it different from any of Jehan's usual outfits.

"I didn't realize flower crowns were still a thing," Combeferre says, watching with a fond smile as Courfeyrac proceeds to try on almost every single one that's for sale.

"Flower crowns are always a thing at the Renaissance faire," Jehan says, sounding like the expert that he probably is as he helps Courfeyrac narrow down his choices. Finally Courfeyrac settles on a blue and purple one and spends an inordinate amount of time arranging it in his hair and admiring himself in the tiny mirror hanging from the side of the cart. When he catches Enjolras' eye in the mirror he grins and whirls around, brandishing a crown of tiny red rosebuds. "Try on this one. It'll go so well with your angelic golden curls."

"Absolutely not," Enjolras says, ducking out of his reach.

"You're no fun," Courfeyrac complains, though he's managed to talk Combeferre into wearing a crown that matches his own so Enjolras knows that he won't be pouting for long. 

"I saw a guy selling Robin Hood hats over there," Grantaire says, choosing that moment to reappear at Enjolras' side. He and Eponine are carrying large plastic souvenir cups and judging by Grantaire's easy grin and the flush of his cheeks Enjolras is positive that he's drinking something stronger than soda. "The whole 'steal from the rich and give to the poor' thing would probably suit you better."

"Did you have to mention Robin Hood?" Courfeyrac says as he pays for his and Combeferre's flower crowns. "The last thing we need is for Enjolras to go on another rant about historical inaccuracies." But he's giving the top of Enjolras' head a speculative look, as if he's trying to decide if a Robin Hood hat really would suit him, and Enjolras knows that he needs to put a stop to this right now before it gets out of hand.

"I don't like hats," he says firmly. And then, because Enjolras can't help himself, he has to turn to Grantaire and ask, "Is that beer?"

"Mead," Grantaire says with the same challenging glint that he gets in his eyes whenever he and Enjolras are on the brink of arguing with each other. The others notice it too and are watching them the way they always do, looking wary and a little tense, waiting for Enjolras to say something critical and then for Grantaire to bite back, as usual. 

There's a lot that Enjolras could say – _don't you think it's a little early to be drinking?_ jumps to mind, but Courfeyrac's words are still rattling around in his head and so he just says, "Did you happen to see any coffee?"

Grantaire blinks. "Coffee?"

"Iced coffee, preferably."

Grantaire gives him a doubtful look, like he can't quite believe that they aren't arguing yet, before nodding. The others look surprised too, and Enjolras can't help feeling a little insulted that they all apparently find him so predictable.

Eponine, however, is grinning slyly. "Grantaire will show you the way," she says, giving him a shove in Enjolras' direction – which is fine until Grantaire slips in the mud and barrels right into Enjolras.

Somehow he manages to wrap his arms around Grantaire's waist and haul him upright while still keeping his own balance, a feat made more difficult by the fact that he's distracted by Grantaire's curls flying into his face and Grantaire's free hand grabbing the collar of Enjolras' shirt and yanking it down and Grantaire _wriggling_ against him. 

"Are you _trying_ to make us fall?" he demands and Grantaire stills so suddenly that Enjolras almost topples into the mud in spite of his best efforts. He doesn't though, and after a moment he finally feels steady enough on his feet to let go of Grantaire without worrying that they'll both fall over. When he does, Grantaire quickly puts some distance between them and Enjolras chooses to ignore how flustered he suddenly feels by glaring at their friends, who are all laughing at them and of course didn't even attempt to help.

"Do you still want that coffee?" Grantaire asks after a moment, without looking at him.

"Yeah," Enjolras says, even though he forgot all about it. He resolves not to offer to bring back anything for the others since they still haven't stopped laughing. 

By some miracle Grantaire's mead didn't spill all over them when he slipped, and now he drains it in one go. Enjolras has to force himself not to stare at the column of Grantaire's throat as he swallows.

"Good," Grantaire says when's finished, and he turns to go without waiting to see if Enjolras will follow. "Because I need a refill." 

*

The line for iced coffee is long and appears to be comprised entirely of people wearing fairy wings and lots of glittery makeup, much to Enjolras' confusion. Grantaire smirks and leaves him there to go and buy his mead, and when he returns the line has crawled forward a couple of feet and Enjolras is still trying to figure out the reason for the sequined lime green wings on the back of the girl in front of him.

Grantaire takes one look at Enjolras' bewildered expression and laughs. "Next time we'll bring you to one of those living history places and let you churn butter and weave a tapestry or something in a safe, glitter-free environment."

"But what are they supposed to _be_?" Enjolras mutters, sounding frustrated to his own ears. Beside him Grantaire shrugs and sips at his drink.

"Just go with it," he says. "Pretend they're something out of Shakespeare. _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ , if it makes you feel any better."

The ridiculous thing is that it _does_ make Enjolras feel better, though he's not about to admit it. He settles instead for giving Grantaire his best unimpressed look, and forces himself not to let his eyes linger on the amused curve of Grantaire's mouth and the increasingly pink tinge in his cheeks that probably has more to do with the mead than the weather. 

It is uncomfortably warm, though, and there's absolutely no shelter from the sun as they wait in the slow creeping line. Enjolras brushes his hair off his sweaty forehead with a sigh, a gesture that Grantaire immediately seizes upon with a grin. "Maybe you should rethink that Robin Hood hat."

Enjolras ignores him in favor of digging a hair tie out of his pocket. He's beginning to wish that he hadn't trimmed his hair at the beginning of the summer; it seemed like a good idea at the time but right now he's just sorry that it isn't long enough yet for a decent ponytail. He attempts one anyway and maybe it's all in his head, but he feels much better once he gets most of his hair off his neck.

He can feel Grantaire's eyes on him but when Enjolras turns to him Grantaire quickly looks away. "You're up," is all that he says, his expression unreadable, and sure enough they've finally reached the counter. 

They sell ice cream too, and Enjolras is almost tempted to get one after baking in the sun for so long, but in the end he decides to be sensible and asks for an iced coffee. After a moment of consideration he adds a bottled water to his order.

"Here," he says, holding it out to Grantaire as they make their way back to the main road. "Make sure you stay hydrated today."

He waits for Grantaire to laugh at him, or to make the sort of derisive remark that he generally makes whenever he disagrees with one of Enjolras' suggestions, but right now Grantaire just looks puzzled. "Do you think I'm going to get alcohol poisoning or something? Because it takes a lot more than two cups of mead to affect me, you know."

He knows, because he's seen Grantaire drink truly staggering amounts of alcohol at their meetings and still somehow remain upright and articulate enough to cite ancient philosophical texts, often in the original Greek. Still, they don't hold their meetings outdoors in the middle of a humid heat wave, and Grantaire's face looks even pinker now than it did just a few minutes before.

"I'm not going to lecture you," Enjolras begins, and that makes Grantaire laugh.

"That would be a first." He squints up at Enjolras. "Should I be worried that you're suffering from heatstroke? Maybe _you_ should drink the water."

Enjolras frowns at him. "Look, it's really hot out and we have a lot of walking ahead of us today. Drinking only mead or beer or whatever you'd prefer isn't exactly healthy in this weather. So please, humor me if you must, but drink some water now." He holds out the bottle again, and this time Grantaire takes it.

"Thanks," he says and he actually drinks a bit of the water without any further argument, much to Enjolras' astonishment. But then, because it's Grantaire and he always has to have the last word, he nudges Enjolras in the side and says, "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were concerned about me."

" _Of course_ I'm concerned about you, Grantaire," he replies, his voice coming out much louder than he intends due to sheer exasperation. Several curious strangers turn to look in their direction but Enjolras is too busy observing the way that Grantaire suddenly looks down and smiles, startled and yet obviously pleased, to care about what anyone else might be thinking. 

It's only when Grantaire turns to look at him again that Enjolras realizes he's been staring at him. He quickly glances away, hoping Grantaire didn't notice, but feels a flush creeping up his neck and onto his face because what if he _did_. He doesn't glance back to check, though, just in case. Instead Enjolras busies himself with taking a sip of coffee and looking at anything besides Grantaire, and it's with a surge of undeniable relief that he suddenly spots their friends through the crowd. At least, he catches sight of Jehan's shirt, beckoning him across the road like a garish beacon, and that's good enough for him.

"There they are," he says, and if he practically sprints away, well, at least it'll be a good excuse if anyone asks why his face has suddenly gone so red.

*

Grantaire catches up to him at the replica pillory, where their friends are taking pictures of each other in the stocks because Courfeyrac has never met a photo opportunity that he didn't like. He has Feuilly and Bahorel posing in them now, even though they appear to have only just arrived at the faire, and before Enjolras can even think about slipping away unnoticed he finds Eponine at his side.

"Oh good, you both made it back in one piece," she says, sizing up him and Grantaire with an alarming grin. "You took so long we were afraid that we'd find you beating each other with fake swords." She and Grantaire proceed to have a silent conversation that appears to consist of a complicated series of smirks and raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes. Enjolras can't decipher any of it, but whatever passes between them makes Eponine's smile grow even wider, and when she abruptly links arms with him and Grantaire Enjolras has a sinking suspicion that there's no hope of escaping now. 

"Hey Courfeyrac, I found two more for you," she announces. Courfeyrac's face lights up when he sees them, and Enjolras' protests that he'd much rather stay and talk to Feuilly and Bahorel instead of being subjected to this indignity are of course ignored by everyone as Eponine drags him in the direction of the stocks.

There are two of them, side by side, and Grantaire doesn't seem to mind being imprisoned in the one on the left. That leaves the other for Enjolras, and Courfeyrac even takes away his coffee, handing it to Jehan to hold before he cheerfully arranges Enjolras' arms and drops the wooden bar over his neck. "Now smile! Or glare, if you're Enjolras."

Enjolras does glare for the photo, and has no doubt that it'll be plastered all over instagram and facebook the next time he logs on. Grantaire is laughing beside him though, and after a moment of listening Enjolras feels his lips twitching into a grin. Judging by the delighted look on Courfeyrac's face, he's managed to get it on camera, and for once Enjolras doesn't mind.

* 

They're about to form a search party for Marius, Joly, and Bossuet, since none of them are replying to any of their texts, when Feuilly spots them near the music pavilion, watching and listening to the giant bells.

"Fuck," Eponine mutters, and when Enjolras looks more closely he can see why. Their friends are not alone – there are two girls around their age with them and judging by the way that Marius is beaming at one of them, Enjolras is sure that she's the mystery woman from the other car.

The bells are amazing and also pretty loud, which would explain why all of their texts have gone unanswered. Enjolras has no idea how any of them are managing to carry on a conversation, but then again they mostly seem to be staring at each other and smiling, and it takes Courfeyrac nearly tackling Marius to the ground to get their attention and coax them away to someplace a little quieter.

Marius is quick to introduce Cosette, and they keep stealing glances at each other and smiling in a way that makes Grantaire put a comforting arm around Eponine. The other girl is Musichetta, and she already seems to be extremely friendly with Bossuet and Joly in ways that Enjolras doesn't care to examine too closely. Nonetheless, they both seem perfectly nice and Enjolras isn't at all surprised to see how easily they're already fitting in with the others; their group is always expanding, and none of them would have it any other way – except perhaps for Eponine right now, if the unhappy looks she keeps sending Marius and Cosette's way is any indication.

"Want to get out of here?" Grantaire asks her quietly. 

Even though Eponine looks like she'd rather be anywhere else, she shakes her head. "I'll be okay."

"You'll feel better if you throw something," Jehan says and somehow, despite the flurry of introductions, Cosette overhears him.

"Musichetta and I saw an axe-throwing booth earlier," she says, her whole face brightening as she turns to the group at large. "Do any of you want to play?"

It doesn't take much to convince the others, and it doesn't take very long for them all to discover that Cosette, as it turns out, is disturbingly good.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Bahorel asks as they watch her fling the axe at the wall. It sticks with an ominous thud alongside the other three that she's already thrown, their handles still vibrating slightly, and even the guy in charge of the booth looks slightly unsettled. 

"I went to an all-girls Catholic high school," Cosette says, hefting her final axe. "The nuns taught us how to do this right before prom, just in case our dates had wandering hands." She aims carefully and throws the axe, where it sticks neatly to the wall alongside the others. Marius suddenly goes very pale.

"I'm kidding," Cosette says, smiling up at him after she's claimed her prize, a green stuffed dragon with enormous eyelashes, from the now thoroughly intimidated worker. Marius looks relieved for a moment, at least until Cosette turns to the rest of them and asks, very sweetly, "Anyone up for knife throwing?"

*

After the knife throwing (where Cosette's second victory leaves Marius looking more than a little anxious) they all decide to try their hand at archery with limited success. There are no prizes to be won here, probably because very few people seem to be able to hit the target often enough to win something – except for Jehan, who manages to hit the bullseye or close to it every single time. 

"It's that Katniss braid of yours, it's giving you powers," Courfeyrac says, grinning as he reaches over and gives Jehan's hair a tug. Enjolras regards his own target with a frown after he fails to hit it with his first five arrows – four of them end up sticking to the underside of the low-hanging roof, which the attendant cheerfully informs him is some kind of record, and the other arrow flops pathetically onto the grass about two feet in front of him. Finally he ends up giving the rest of them to Jehan, and enough of the others do the same that Jehan has to move to a new target because the bullseye on his original one is too crowded with arrows to fit any more.

They migrate as a group to the crossbow contest after that, but Enjolras decides to give it a pass and wanders a little away from the others to check out the other games. He almost walks right by the ring toss before he gets a look at the prizes – a bunch of small plush toys dangling in a row from the top of the game booth, and in between the bears dressed as wizards and knights is the world's ugliest unicorn. It's dark blue with a squashed face and a body that looks like it's missing half of its stuffing. The legs are too short, the mane is sticking up at odd angles, and Enjolras instantly falls in love with it.

Unfortunately for Enjolras, he's shaping up to be just as terrible at ring toss as he is at archery. Even more unfortunately, Grantaire comes over to watch just in time to see him throw a ring that bounces off the peg and goes flying like the others before it.

"Wow," he says, and Enjolras doesn't have to look at Grantaire to know that he's grinning. "Your hand-eye coordination is shockingly nonexistent."

"I don't know what you mean," Enjolras says, scowling as he throws another ring, which falls short, and then another, which rockets past the peg and hits the back wall of the booth with a pitiful thud.

"No, it really is," Grantaire says, sounding like it's the most hilarious thing in the world. To him, it probably is. "I thought maybe it was just the archery – and we all sucked at that, except for Jehan – but it's everything, isn't it?"

Enjolras sighs and tries to ignore the way his ears are beginning to burn with embarrassment. "I almost got one," he says, pointing out a ring that had landed between two pegs. Grantaire looks like he wants to laugh but somehow manages to remain quiet as Enjolras throws his last ring. Not that it does him any good, since he misses anyway.

"It's probably rigged so you can't win," Grantaire says, and luckily the worker assigned to the booth is too busy chasing after the rings that Enjolras left scattered in every direction to hear him. "I saw a documentary about it once on the History Channel or something. They fix the rings, or is it the pegs? I can't remember now, but they definitely do something to keep people from winning. What were you trying to win, anyway?"

"Nothing," Enjolras says far too quickly. 

Grantaire raises an eyebrow suspiciously. 

"It was just for fun."

Grantaire's eyebrow climbs even higher. Enjolras swallows uneasily.

"Just my way of… supporting the faire?"

Grantaire looks between Enjolras and the prizes and says, "It's that hideous unicorn, isn't it?"

"No!" Enjolras says, though he can't stop himself from glancing up at it, and by the time he looks back at Grantaire he's reaching for his wallet.

"It's not necessary, really, please don't," Enjolras tries to tell him, but Grantaire just ignores him and the woman behind the counter gives them a knowing smile that Enjolras doesn't like one bit. 

"I thought you said it was probably rigged," Enjolras mutters a few minutes later, after Grantaire manages to throw a ring onto a peg on his very first try.

"I might have been trying to make you feel better," Grantaire says, collecting the unicorn from the still-smiling woman and tossing it to Enjolras with a grin. "Here you go. Don't forget to feed it."

Up close the unicorn is even uglier, but something about the misshapen head and imperfectly aligned eyes makes it impossible for Enjolras not to smile down at it. "Thanks," he says, and when he looks up Grantaire is watching him with a strange soft look on his face that Enjolras doesn't think he's ever seen before.

It's gone almost as soon as Enjolras notices it, and Grantaire just shrugs. "It was nothing," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, but that odd expression returns when he thinks Enjolras isn't looking and it doesn't quite disappear even after they meet up with the others and Courfeyrac laughs himself silly when he catches sight of the unicorn.

*

"You know," Courfeyrac says later, leaning across the picnic table they've taken over for lunch and giving the unicorn a thoughtful look. Enjolras has it perched on the bench beside him, but when he catches Courfeyrac eyeing it he can't help tugging it onto his lap protectively.

"If you're going to make fun of her again-"

"Her?" Courfeyrac gives him an amused grin. "Does she have a name now?"

"…No," Enjolras says, because there's no way in hell he's going to admit to calling the unicorn 'Patria' in his head.

Courfeyrac looks like he doesn't believe Enjolras for a second, but thankfully he lets it slide. "As I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted, some people would consider that a romantic gesture."

Enjolras looks down at the unicorn in confusion. "How is naming a stuffed animal – _not that I'm saying that I did_ – romantic?"

Courfeyrac sighs. "You," he says, stabbing his fries into the ketchup with more force than Enjolras thinks is strictly necessary, "are the most oblivious smart person ever."

"How am I being oblivious?" 

"This time?" Courfeyrac says wryly. He startles a laugh out of Combeferre, though he quickly manages to stifle it when Enjolras turns to glare at him. 

"I meant," Courfeyrac goes on, "that it was very sweet of Grantaire to win that horrible creature for you. Pretty – dare I say it? – romantic, too."

Enjolras' eyes dart down the length of the table, but all of their friends are involved in their own conversations and none of them appear to have overheard – including Grantaire, who seems to be taking part in a mini-marshmallow shooting contest at the far end of the table with some toy crossbows that Joly and Bossuet had bought earlier specifically for that purpose. They're too busy laughing and arguing over who's winning to pay any attention to Courfeyrac, which means that Enjolras can reward him with the stony look that his foolish theory deserves. "Don't be ridiculous."

"It's true," Courfeyrac says, his eyes lighting up because he's just getting started. "I think Jehan even started writing a poem about it."

Enjolras _did_ see Jehan scribbling something on a napkin just now, come to think of it, and he has to resist the urge to send another panicked glance down the table. He also has to pretend that he isn't blushing, though Courfeyrac and Combeferre's matching smirks tell him that he's not fooling anyone but himself.

"It was just something that a friend would do. There's no need to analyze it," he says firmly, before returning his attention to his sandwich. But then Enjolras remembers the way Grantaire looked at him earlier, and for a moment he considers the strange expression that he couldn't quite place before pushing the thought aside. He's never been quite sure of whatever's going on in Grantaire's head but he's fairly certain that it's not what Courfeyrac thinks.

Not that Courfeyrac is giving up so easily. "Could be," he says with a shrug. "Only I didn't see anyone else trying to win prizes for their friends, did you?"

"That doesn't mean anything," Enjolras says, because it doesn't, it _can't_ , Grantaire would _never_ – not with Enjolras, anyway. With a sigh he puts down the end of his sandwich, which he is rapidly losing interest in finishing, and turns back to Courfeyrac. "You can go on thinking it was some grand romantic gesture if you want, but you were there this morning. You remember what he said. Do you really believe he'd waste his time on someone that he thinks is 'immune to that sort of thing,' even if he – or if I–" Enjolras lets himself trail off abruptly, shaking his head in frustration. He's used to being much more eloquent than this. 

"Did you ever think," Combeferre offers quietly, "that maybe Grantaire said those things to protect himself?"

And even though Enjolras usually considers Combeferre a valuable source of wisdom, that doesn't make sense to him at all. "Why would he do that?"

Courfeyrac sighs again. "You're lucky you're so cute," he says, shaking his head in what looks like dismay, and before Enjolras can demand to know what he means by that he feels something hit his cheek. 

He looks down in time to see a mini marshmallow fall to the ground, and when he glances up again another one bounces off his forehead and a third hits his collarbone before dropping onto his plate. Around him the conversations snag abruptly and everyone's eyes turn to him, and when Enjolras looks down the table Joly and Bossuet both raise their hands and say, "It wasn't us."

Grantaire, though, is loading his toy crossbow. When he catches Enjolras looking he grins and offers him a mock salute before letting another marshmallow fly right at him, and Enjolras – Enjolras is just so unbelievably confused that he can't bring himself to do anything more than bat it aside and give Grantaire a stern look, which probably isn't effective at all because he feels like his face is _on fire_.

It doesn't help that Jehan's scribbling suddenly intensifies, and that when Enjolras turns back to Courfeyrac he finds him glancing between him and Grantaire with his chin in his hands and a ridiculously fond smile on his face, like he's watching a Disney movie.

"You were saying?" he says, and he sounds so smug that Enjolras grabs the marshmallow off his plate and flings it at Courfeyrac's face.

Courfeyrac, the horrible person that he is, manages to catch it in his mouth, grinning all the while.

Enjolras' mind is still too stuck on Grantaire – and if he hadn't already been so bewildered, the knowledge of that would have done it – to contribute much to the conversation that follows, though he half-listens as the others try to decide what to do next. Everyone wants to see the joust later, but they have some time before that and they can't seem to decide if they'd rather watch the living chess match, or see the birds of prey, or go to one of the shows at one of the many little theaters strewn around the faire. The reasonable thing to do would be to split up and let everyone go their own way, but they're all too codependent for that even if none of them will ever admit it, so eventually they just agree to walk around and see whatever they come across first. 

It sounds like a good idea to Enjolras, at least until Combeferre draws him away from the others as they're wandering along one of the smaller paths and says, "You know he means well."

"Not you, too," he says, giving Combeferre a disapproving look because he doesn't want to have this conversation with him as well. Usually Combeferre is the one that Enjolras can count on to help him convince Courfeyrac that his ideas are ridiculous, not to run wild with them. "Are you going to try to convince me that shooting marshmallows at someone is also a romantic gesture? Because I can't see that it means anything at all, except that Grantaire apparently has too much time on his hands."

"I was actually referring to Courfeyrac, but the fact that you thought I meant Grantaire is interesting," Combeferre replies mildly. Enjolras has the distinct impression that he's said more than he should have but this is Combeferre, and Enjolras suspects that he's had it all figured out for a while. Longer than it's taken Enjolras to realize his own feelings, at any rate, and Combeferre seems to be aware of this, too. His glasses are sliding down his nose and he pushes them up slowly, as if he's trying to bide his time while he gathers his thoughts.

"Are you going to do something about it?" he asks eventually.

"I don't know," Enjolras admits. He feels himself deflate, just a little.

"Do you _want_ to do something? Because you don't have to if you're not comfortable, or you need more time to think about it."

"I know," Enjolras says. "And yes, I do want to do something about it, but-" He lets himself trail off, because he knows Combeferre will understand, and Combeferre nods, because he does.

"Normally I would argue that none of us should interfere," he says carefully. "But I meant what I said before. Courfeyrac does mean well. He just wants you to be happy. We all do."

Enjolras can't help smiling a little at that. "I know. And thanks."

Combeferre nods, and they both fall silent for a few moments before he turns to Enjolras and abruptly asks, "Did you know that Leonardo da Vinci designed the first paddleboat?" 

The sudden shift in their conversation immediately makes Enjolras suspicious. "Why are you telling me this?" 

"So you won't complain that our next activity isn't Renaissance-appropriate," Combeferre says, and when Enjolras follows his gaze he sees that they've been walking towards a lake. A lake that has a short, narrow dock with a row of blue and white paddleboats tied to either side of it.

"You're joking, right?" Enjolras says, because he doesn't like the look of this at all.

"Leonardo da Vinci," Combeferre reminds him, smiling encouragingly, before putting a hand on Enjolras' shoulder and guiding him in the direction of the others.

"I think I'll sit this one out," Joly is saying as they approach. "The water doesn't look very appealing, does it?" Now that Enjolras is closer to the lake he has to agree with him. It looks murky, and there's algae or something growing on large patches of it, and there's a prop pirate ship half-sunken at one end and a wooden model of what he can only guess is supposed to be the Loch Ness Monster at the other, and Enjolras is absolutely not going any closer to that lake.

"I'll stay with you," he says, in case anyone besides Combeferre foolishly believes that he's actually getting in one of those paddleboats, and comes to stand beside Joly.

And that should be the end of it, but his friends suddenly look dismayed and Feuilly, of all people – Feuilly! Someone he's always admired! Enjolras has never felt more betrayed in his life – is the one that says, "But each boat needs two people to paddle, and if you sit out then someone else will have to, as well."

Everyone looks at him expectantly – even Joly, who seems oddly invested in what happens next for someone who has already vowed to stay on shore – and the thing is, Enjolras may have difficulties noticing social cues sometimes but he's never actively disappointed his friends and he's not about to start now.

"All right," he says reluctantly, and immediately lives to regret it when his friends start splitting into pairs: Feuilly and Bahorel, Bossuet and Musichetta, Marius and Cosette, Eponine and Jehan, Courfeyrac and Combeferre – leaving him and Grantaire standing together on the dock. Of course. Judging by the smirks the others are exchanging as they race to the boats and the way that Joly won't meet his eyes, Enjolras is certain that they've orchestrated the entire thing precisely for this moment. 

Grantaire turns to him, looking intensely awkward. "Um, look, it's fine. I don't care about the paddleboats at all, Eponine talked me into it but she just ditched me for Jehan, so." He trails off and shrugs like it doesn't matter, but Enjolras gets the feeling that it does. "What I'm saying is, I don't mind hanging out over here with Joly if that's what you want to do."

"No," Enjolras says, squaring his shoulders determinedly. "Let's do this."

"Really? Because you look like you'd be happier if you were getting a root canal-"

"Are you coming or not?" Enjolras demands, and doesn't wait for an answer before grabbing Grantaire by the arm and marching him in the direction of the boats. They're nearly there when he comes to an abrupt halt. 

"Wait a minute," he says, brushing past a baffled-looking Grantaire and stomping back the way he came in order to hand Patria to Joly. "Take good care of her," he says. Joly nods solemnly and carefully tucks the unicorn into the crook of his arm.

Satisfied that at least one of them will be safe from the dubious-looking lake water, Enjolras turns back around in time to see Grantaire staring at him, still looking thoroughly confused, before one corner of his mouth quirks into a grin.

"What?" Enjolras says, absolutely not dragging his feet as he stalks back in the direction of the boats.

"Nothing," Grantaire replies, though his smile only grows as he falls into step beside him.

At the end of the dock the lifeguard – at least, Enjolras sincerely hopes that he's a certified lifeguard – hands each of them a life jacket and lets them choose their own boat. Up close they seem smaller and don't look as sturdy as Enjolras had hoped, and his suspicions are confirmed when Grantaire hops into the nearest boat like it's nothing and causes the whole thing to bob alarmingly in the water. 

Enjolras clings onto the rail running along the length of the dock and stares down at the boat. There are water droplets all over the seat and what looks like a good inch of water at the bottom, and why on earth is everything so wet? Is it leaking? Did it recently capsize? 

"Enjolras?" Grantaire's already settled in his seat, his feet on the pedals and ready to go. "Everything okay?" 

"Yes," he replies, even though the death-like grip he has on the rail is turning his knuckles white and doesn't exactly make him sound very convincing. And then, because Grantaire is starting to look concerned, Enjolras quickly lets go of the rail and steps into the boat. 

It immediately moves beneath his feet as if it's trying to throw him off and Enjolras flails his arms in an effort to keep his balance, which only seems to make things worse. The boat rocks even more violently so that Enjolras stumbles and almost pitches right over the side and into the water. It's terrifying for an instant but somehow Grantaire manages to grab the back of his life jacket and pull him down into the seat beside him.

"Is this related to your hand-eye coordination thing?" Grantaire says, sounding amused, but he doesn't let go of him until he sees that Enjolras is settled. 

Not that Enjolras feels settled. The boat doesn't seem any sturdier now that he's sitting down; in fact, it seems worse with Grantaire crowded beside him, their elbows and knees bumping against each other and making the boat seem even smaller. Maybe it was his flailing that did it but Enjolras is positive that there's more water around his feet now, and he thinks it's probably a good idea to make sure that his life jacket is zipped all the way up. That slight movement causes the boat to rock distressingly, and when Enjolras looks back at the shore and finds Joly standing there, smiling and waving one of Patria's hooves at him, he swallows heavily. 

"Um. Enjolras?"

He turns back to Grantaire, who's looking increasingly bewildered. "We're supposed to, you know, paddle…?" 

He trails off and Enjolras suddenly notices that the others are all halfway across the lake and they're the only ones still languishing at the dock. "Oh, right," he says, staring down at the pedals in dread. He tells himself that it's just like riding a bicycle – _yes, a bike on water that you could drown in_ , his brain helpfully adds – and even though Enjolras is terrified that any movement on his part will immediately tip the whole boat over he determinedly begins to paddle.

Their boat seems to be sitting scarily low in the water as they slowly glide away from the dock. Enjolras looks down and checks once more for holes, doesn't find any, and when he looks up they've cleared the dock and are in open water. There's nothing around them but the sky and a truly terrifying amount of water, and the tree-lined shore ahead of them looks incredibly far away. Fleetingly, Enjolras thinks that the view would probably seem very beautiful if he didn't constantly feel like he was about to fall into the water at any moment, before he squeezes his eyes shut and decides to trust in Grantaire's sense of direction. 

Grantaire doesn't seem to notice Enjolras' inner turmoil and keeps up a running commentary as they pedal across the water, cracking jokes about the Loch Ness Monster sculpture as they skirt around it and mentioning that Joly is waving the unicorn's hoof at them again before turning his attention to the other side of the lake where Eponine and Jehan appear to have challenged Bossuet and Musichetta to a race. At least, Enjolras thinks that it's happening on the other side of the lake. He hasn't dared to open his eyes again.

"…which is probably the worst idea ever, I mean, this is Bossuet we're talking about and I love him but you know he'll find some way to tip over the boat, and then Joly will-" Grantaire cuts himself off abruptly. "Hey. Enjolras. Are you okay?"

"Of course," Enjolras says, ignoring the fact that clutching the side of the boat for dear life is probably indicative of how not okay he is. "Why?"

"Well, you look a little pale and you're squeezing your eyes shut and you kind of look like you might tear off a piece of the boat at any moment if you keep holding on like that? So I was just wondering."

"Oh," Enjolras replies. He forces his eyes open, squinting in the sudden onslaught of bright sunlight, and manages to take one look at the concerned expression on Grantaire's face and the sheer expanse of water all around them – how did they get to the middle of the lake so quickly??? – before immediately closing his eyes again.

"Are you seasick?" Grantaire asks cautiously. He sounds like he can't believe it could happen on a lake that's so calm but is still trying to figure out which way to point Enjolras' head if he does get sick.

"No," Enjolras says, before heaving an irritable sigh. He's never liked admitting his weaknesses to anyone but he can't see any way of getting out of telling Grantaire as long as they're stuck together in this horrible boat. "I don't know how to swim." 

"Oh," Grantaire says, sounding surprised. "And that makes you nervous?"

The only thing stopping Enjolras from glaring at him is the fact that he would have to open his eyes to do it. "Isn't that obvious?"

"Well, we have life jackets!" Grantaire says brightly. "And I know how to swim, in case anything did happen. Not that anything will, of course. I bet this water isn't even that deep anyway, we could probably stand up in it just fine if we fell in, and it's not like the people in charge of this place would send people out in boats if it was really dangerous – wouldn't that be a liability if somebody did drown? Which we're not going to do. Of course, there's always the possibility that–"

"Grantaire," Enjolras says through gritted teeth. "You're really not helping."

"Sorry," Grantaire says, and finally falls silent. 

Enjolras is gripping the side of the boat so tightly now that his hand is aching, but he doesn't stop pedaling. Stopping would only leave them stranded in the middle of all this water, and pedaling, even if does make the boat lurch ominously, is better than doing nothing at all. He wishes suddenly that he didn't leave Patria with Joly. It would have been nice to have something to hold on to right now besides a deathtrap of a boat. 

Just then Grantaire reaches for his hand, and Enjolras startles so badly that the whole boat tilts to one side, sending a stream of water crashing onto their feet.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to make things worse," Grantaire says, sounding wretched. He tries to pull his hand away, but Enjolras holds on tighter and doesn't let him. 

"No, it's fine," Enjolras says, and it's more than fine, it's good. Grantaire's hand is warm and steady, broader across the palm than Enjolras', and holding it makes Enjolras feel more grounded and less like he's about to fall into the water. He feels himself slowly growing calmer as the boat steadies itself and stops rocking, and after a while he even manages to open his eyes. He finds Grantaire looking at him in concern and offers him a smile that he hopes looks reassuring. "Thank you."

Grantaire shrugs a shoulder. "Glad to be of service," he says, shifting his fingers, and for a moment Enjolras thinks he's going to let go but in the end Grantaire just curls them around Enjolras' hand more comfortably. "Feeling better?"

Enjolras lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I think so," he says, and immediately regrets it when Grantaire glances down at their hands. He still doesn't let go, though, and when he looks up a moment later he gives Enjolras an uncertain smile. 

"Have you ever thought about taking swimming lessons? I know a place-"

"Grantaire!" Eponine yells. "Are you lovebirds ever going to join us?"

This time, Grantaire _does_ drop his hand, though it was probably impossible for Eponine or anyone else to see that they were holding hands from such a distance, even if her voice does carry remarkably well across the water. The worst part of it, though, is the way that Grantaire almost seems to curl into himself and refuses to meet his eyes – like he's embarrassed, or disgusted, and Enjolras doesn't want to follow that line of thought too closely. Whatever it is, he gets the feeling that if they were on dry ground Grantaire probably would have walked away without another glance, and the idea of that causes Enjolras to swallow heavily against the sudden lump in his throat. 

He tries to think of something to say, anything to make the situation less awkward, but in the end all he says is, "Let's go." Grantaire nods, a solitary jerk of his head, and neither one of them has anything to say to the other as they turn the boat around and pedal across the lake.

*

"I don't appreciate your meddling," Enjolras tells Courfeyrac and Combeferre once they're all back on shore. 

Combeferre, at least, has the decency to look a little ashamed, but Courfeyrac just shrugs unapologetically. "Desperate times," he says. "Anyway, it looked like you and Grantaire had a lot to talk about – and well away from the rest of us, I might add." He waggles his eyebrows, and to his credit his expression doesn't falter under Enjolras' withering look.

"Ninety percent of what you saw was me worrying about that ridiculous boat tipping over and Grantaire trying to calm me down."

"And the other ten percent?" Courfeyrac says hopefully. 

Enjolras thinks about the way Grantaire clammed up at the lake, and how quickly he made himself scarce once they were back on shore, and says, "Like I said earlier, I really don't think he's interested."

"Are you kidding me?" Courfeyrac sounds incredulous enough that Enjolras finds himself wondering if he could be wrong, before he remembers that Courfeyrac is prone to exaggeration and firmly pushes all thoughts of Grantaire aside. 

"No more meddling," he says instead, but before he can add anything else he's distracted by Jehan, who announces that their next destination is a reward for Joly for waiting so patiently for them at the lake.

"You mean the lake of death and disease?" Joly says sweetly, which is what he's taken to calling it since the rest of them returned the paddleboats. "By the way, does anyone want hand sanitizer?"

A few of them do, and most of the others just laugh, but Enjolras is more concerned with the meaningful looks that Jehan and Eponine keep exchanging. Whatever it is that the two of them are plotting, it probably isn't good, and Enjolras wonders if he's just traded Courfeyrac and Combeferre's version of meddling for something even worse.

His instincts prove to be correct when they reach the end of the path and find Ye Olde Kissing Bridge. 

"Oh, come on," Enjolras says, glaring up at the sign. It's decorated with enormous red hearts and incongruously blue-winged cherubs shooting arrows at each other, and has the distinction of being cheesy as hell and making absolutely no sense at all. It's probably the most ridiculous thing he's seen all day, which is saying a lot considering that he's encountered the Loch Ness Monster and crossbows that shoot marshmallows and far too many people covered in glitter and wearing fairy wings.

No, wait, the most ridiculous thing is how all of their friends are suddenly crowding around him and Grantaire in such a way that makes it safe to assume that they've decided to abandon any semblance of subtlety for undisguised and unapologetic matchmaking. Well, almost all of their friends. The only ones that don't seem to be involved are Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta, who are already trading kisses and are wrapped around each other in a way that seems to require a level of contortionism that Enjolras doesn't bother trying to figure out. 

He has more pressing matters to worry about; namely, how to get out of this increasingly idiotic situation. Walking away would be the simplest option, only when he tries to do just that Bahorel steps in front of him, effectively blocking his way. He isn't as tall as Enjolras (few people are) but out of all of their friends he comes the closest. There's also the fact that Bahorel has at least twenty-five pounds of solid muscle on Enjolras, so he can be very intimidating when he wants to be. 

Not that Enjolras is easily intimidated. "Really," he says, deadpan, before trying to squeeze between him and the railing.

"Really," Bahorel says, blocking him again with a grin. "You're not getting out of this one."

"Is this an intervention?" Grantaire asks, looking as unimpressed as Enjolras feels.

"Yes!" everyone exclaims at once.

"Seriously, will you two just put yourselves out of your misery and kiss each other already?" Eponine says. "The sexual tension was stifling in the car this morning."

"You were asleep _the whole time_ ," Grantaire says, sounding a little desperate.

"But I always know what's going on," Eponine says, smiling in a way that's more than a bit terrifying.

"Because that's not creepy at all," Enjolras mutters. Eponine's smile only grows wider.

"Now's your chance, Grantaire! Enjolras won't mind," someone calls from behind them. Enjolras thinks it might be Bossuet or Joly, and although he's surprised that either one of them has managed to come up for air already, he's not curious enough to check. 

Grantaire's expression turns stony but his eyes are blazing; Enjolras has never seen him look angrier. "Fuck you," he says. "I mean it, fuck all of you. This is bullshit, you can't just drag people over here and force them to kiss-"

"I agree-" Enjolras says.

"See?" Grantaire says, spreading his arms expansively. His laugh, when it comes, is brief and bitter. "This has to be the only time we've ever agreed on anything, so it must be true."

"-even though you wouldn't be forcing me," Enjolras finishes, because apparently he's taken leave of his senses and it's all Courfeyrac's (and everyone else's) fault.

"What?" Grantaire says. He lowers his arms slowly and just like that his anger seems to ebb away, leaving shock in its place.

"I mean, as long as I knew that you didn't mind," Enjolras says. He's dangerously close to babbling, and he _never_ babbles. "But you would, wouldn't you?"

"WHAT." Grantaire looks like he's about to pass out. 

"You'd mind it if I kissed you," Enjolras says slowly, because Grantaire seems to be having some trouble following the conversation. "Right?"

"Would I – would I _mind_?" Grantaire's laugh sounds a touch hysterical. "Do you actually think I'd say no?"

"…Yes?"

Grantaire gives him a doubtful look, as if he can't decide whether to believe Enjolras or not. "Did you really not notice anything? Ever?"

"That's not an answer," Enjolras says, and now he's getting annoyed, and not only because everyone is still clustered around them and watching without shame. "Consent is important and I would never presume to just – wait, what was I supposed to notice?"

"Oh my god," Grantaire says, shaking his head even though he sounds almost fond. "You really, _really_ need to work on your observation skills. Of course I wouldn't mind. But is this some kind of weird pity thing? Because if you think it's your duty or whatever to kiss me because everyone put you up to it, don't. Really, _don't_."

Enjolras' mind stalls when Grantaire says that he wouldn't mind kissing him, so it takes him a moment to catch up to the rest of the conversation. "Why would I think that?"

"Because you're you and I'm me," Grantaire says, as if that's supposed to make sense. The thing is, though, Grantaire looks so resigned, and seems so convinced that this must be the only possible explanation, that Enjolras knows he believes it.

It makes his heart clench in a way that Enjolras isn't used to, and he opens his mouth to argue, to try to convince Grantaire in the only way that he's accustomed to that he's very much mistaken. But somehow arguing seems to be the wrong way to go about this, and before Enjolras can talk himself out of it he's stepping forward and pulling Grantaire into a kiss.

Grantaire's lips part in surprise beneath his, and he's so still and tense at first that Enjolras wonders if this is the worst idea he's ever had. He starts to pull away then, and is already trying to figure out how he could fix this, when Grantaire makes a small, protesting noise and finally, _finally_ , kisses him back. 

Someone – most likely Bahorel – lets out a piercing wolf whistle so close to his ear that Enjolras jumps. He doesn't pull away, though; there's some kind of movement on Grantaire's end that makes Enjolras strongly suspect that he's just flipped Bahorel off, if Bahorel's answering bark of laughter is anything to go by. 

But then Grantaire's hands tentatively settle on Enjolras' waist, as if he still thoroughly expects to be pushed away and told that it's all a mistake. It's only when Enjolras doesn't push him away, when he tangles his fingers in Grantaire's hair and deepens the kiss instead that he finally feels Grantaire relax against him. It makes it hard to keep from smiling, even though all Enjolras wants is to go on kissing him, but he can tell that Grantaire is having the same problem when he feels his lips curving into a grin against his own. They finally pull apart then, though not entirely; Enjolras thinks that he and Grantaire must look like a pair of idiots, the way they're smiling and gazing at each other, but he can't bring himself to care. 

He doesn't care what their friends are saying either, even when they all start talking at once. 

"Holy shit," Bossuet says. "I can't believe that actually worked."

"You owe me twenty bucks," Joly tells him.

"Why didn't we just bring them here first instead of bothering with the paddleboats?" Feuilly asks.

"I told all of you, we should have just locked them in a room together ages ago," Jehan says, managing to sound sweet and terrifying at the same time. 

"I wish they'd get a room now," Eponine says, though she doesn't sound too perturbed, not even when she turns to the others and adds, "Come on, the joust is about to start. Let's head over here now, these dorks can catch up with us later if they want."

"Yes, our work here is done," Courfeyrac says. He looks absolutely thrilled and unbelievably smug, which is always a dangerous combination, but Enjolras finds that he's too happy at this moment to start thinking about all the new and interesting ways of saying _I told you so_ that Courfeyrac will certainly manage to dream up. 

Courfeyrac takes Combeferre, who seems quietly pleased and thoroughly amused by the proceedings, by the hand and practically skips away from the bridge. "Take your time!" he calls over his shoulder. "Really, we insist!"

Yeah, Enjolras is never going to hear the end of this – but somehow, that doesn't seem so bad.

And if he and Grantaire are kissing again before the others are out of sight, and if they are late to the joust and spend more time paying attention to each other than the competition, no one seems to mind.

*

It takes Grantaire until they're halfway to the parking lot to say, "You can still change your mind, you know."

Enjolras could ask Grantaire what he means, but he doesn't need to. "So could you. And for the record, I don't want to."

Grantaire makes a face like he doesn't believe him, but he doesn't argue, and when Enjolras reaches for his hand his frown slips away and is replaced by a smile instead. 

"Come here," Grantaire says, though he's the one that moves towards him, slowly, as if Enjolras is a skittish animal that he's afraid will startle easily. He cups Enjolras' cheek with his free hand and just looks at him for a moment. Enjolras lets him, leaning into his touch, and whatever it is that Grantaire sees in his face makes his smile grow wider before he tugs Enjolras into a kiss.

"You two are going to be one of those disgustingly romantic couples, aren't you?" Eponine says, coming up behind them. "I'm taking your keys, by the way," she adds, and a moment later Enjolras feels her digging around in his pocket.

"Why?" Enjolras mumbles against Grantaire's lips, though he doesn't do anything to stop her.

"You can't drive if you're too busy making out with Grantaire, can you?" she says, jingling the keys by his ear and making Grantaire laugh.

That's how Enjolras is banished to the backseat of his own car, although he really can't complain, not when he has Grantaire's hand still twined in his own and his head is resting on Grantaire's shoulder and he feels too comfortable and happy to move.

Combeferre volunteers to drive Marius' car (or rather, he commandeers Marius' car, though Marius doesn't seem to mind), ostensibly so that they won't get lost on the way home but really because he wants to be with Courfeyrac. Jehan takes Combeferre's place in Enjolras' car, and from the backseat Enjolras can see him scrolling through instagram, where there are at least ten different pictures of him and Grantaire on the Kissing Bridge already. Enjolras makes a mental note to save all of them when he gets home.

"Two rules," Eponine says as she backs out of the parking spot. "Number one: as long as I'm driving, I get to pick the music. Number two: you guys had better keep your clothes on back there." 

This time Enjolras and Grantaire flip Eponine off at the same time, which only makes her laugh when she sees them in the mirror. 

Enjolras has no memory of closing his eyes, but when he wakes up the sky is just beginning to turn dark, so he couldn't have been asleep for too long. He stirs and raises his head from its place on Grantaire's shoulder and sees what woke him up: Jehan half-turned in his seat and looking at him guiltily, phone in hand.

"Sorry," he mouths, and turns the phone around so that Enjolras can see the picture that he's just taken – him and Grantaire cuddled against each other, fast asleep with Patria squashed between them. 

Grantaire is still sleeping now, and Enjolras is smiling so hard that his cheeks are starting to hurt. "Send it to me?" he whispers before carefully resting his head on Grantaire's shoulder again. Jehan's answer is a grin, and a moment later Enjolras' phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out and looks at the picture for a long, happy moment before making it his wallpaper. 

The radio is a low hum in the background; it's some pop song that Enjolras wouldn't expect Eponine to like, but she's singing along under her breath as she maneuvers the car through the traffic. He puts his phone away and closes his eyes, and when Grantaire sleepily shifts and slings his arm around his waist, tugging him closer, Enjolras smiles and lets himself drift back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I very loosely based this Renaissance faire on one I've visited a few times in the past (the New York Renaissance Faire). I borrowed a few things (the kissing bridge being one of them) but I took a lot of liberties too.
> 
> And if anyone's wondering, a version of Patria the unicorn exists and is currently living on one of my bookshelves :)


End file.
